Hug Me Tender
by giacinta
Summary: This is going to be a little series about the wonderful Winchester Hugs. I hope you all like it. Chapter seven. I had a request for another fantasy hug in season seven, so here it is. Angst and brotherly love.
1. Chapter 1

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This is going to be a little series about the Winchester Hugs.

Hope you all like it.

Yours thoughts are always appreciated. :)

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Thanks to all those who have reviewed my previous stories and to those like "huntergirl" that I can't thank personally.

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Hug Me Tender.

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Chapter One.

All Hell Breaks Loose.

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The tires screeched and the engine screamed as the young man threw her into a u-turn and drove like the damned he now was,

back to his brother.

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He was well aware that what he had done was stupid and wrong.

It was something that he himself had suffered through when his father had done the very same thing for him, and he was sure

that if Sam ever came to find out what lengths he had gone to in order to save him; no, to resurrect him, his reaction would be the

exact same as his own had been; of anger and grief that Dean would be tortured in Hell for all eternity because of him.

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Oh, he understood only too well but this was Sam! He had to do it.

His baby brother had always been his responsibility and he had felt him die in his arms!

No! That was a memory he wanted to banish from his mind, never to be allowed back in.

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He knew that a small part of the reasons that had pushed him do this was egotism, but he just couldn't envisage his life without

his little brother by his side.

He couldn't bear the thought of Sammy dead, and he had sold the only thing of any value that he possessed, his soul, to save

him.

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Had it worked?

The Impala sped even faster, as if she too shared the urgency in her owner's heart, the need to see if the youngest member of

their little family was hale and healthy again.

Dean shot out of the car like an arrow from a bow and pushed his way into the rickety house where he had left his brother grey

and dead on a filthy mattress.

"Sammy," his heart cried out, "please, please, be alive."

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If it were not so, and Sam was still lying unmoving on that bed; then, when Bobby eventually returned to see what had become of

them, there would be two bodies for him to burn.

He would stretch out beside his little brother and his gun would do its gruesome duty.

Bobby would be the only one left to mourn the brief existence of Sam and Dean Winchester, he thought sadly.

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He gave himself a second to calm down before he opened the door to the bare bedroom; Sammy must never know; he mustn't

see him too agitated. He took one last deep breath and entered, but his traitorous heart, unheeding his orders, was instead

beating like a symphony of drums.

His brother was there in front of him, living and breathing; his puppy-eyed face scrunched up in pain, but on his feet and blessedly

alive.

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Dean threw himself on to him, needing to hear the beating of Sammy's heart in synch with his own.

He felt the tears start to well up as he embraced him, but he pushed them back. There was no more need for tears; they were for

the dead; no longer necessary now that he had his baby brother warm and alive in his arms again.

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His mind registered Sam's yelp of pain and he released him, not wanting to cause him more harm by pressing on his back, but in

that instant Dean Winchester was the happiest man on Earth.

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He had sold his worthless black soul for a real live Sam. It was a steal!

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XXXX TBC XXXX


	2. Chapter 2

This episode is usually seen as an amusing one but I have always found it to be highly dramatic and the Winchester hug here

is born from Sam's pain and despair, and that is why to me, it's so powerful and with no fluffiness of any kind to it.

Hope you like it just the same. :)

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Mystery Spot.

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Wednesday; how he hated, loathed and detested the very word, even more than Tuesday, although that unholy day had made

him suffer through the death of his beloved brother for more than one hundred times.

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Said like that it slipped smoothly off the tongue, "one hundred days" but for three months, two weeks and two days he had had

to stand by and watch his brother die every single day, in the most inventive and painful ways possible, without being able to lift a

finger to save him.

Those Tuesdays had reduced him to a walking mass of tears and self-reproach but they were nothing compared to Wednesday;

for that day was the one in which his whole world had fallen apart.

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After discovering that the Trickster had been behind everything, Sam had been filled with such relief and happiness when he had

awoken that morning to find that it was no longer Tuesday, but Wednesday and that finally the vicious circle of Dean's deaths

seemed to have ended.

After months of pain there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

He had believed that perhaps, in the meanders of the Trickster's heart a tiny shimmer of mercy shone, but it was not to be,

for mercy had no place in that heart.

Dean had died for real that Wednesday, exhaling his last breath in Sam's trembling arms, outside of the Motel that had been their

home for all those miserable months.

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That day something in Sam Winchester had switched itself off.

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He had sat in that parking lot crying and cradling Dean's body in his arms for hours until exhaustion took over and he had fallen

senseless onto his brother's body.

When he had come to, any traces of the young empathic man he had been, had been wiped away, and a new

emotionless Sam Winchester had risen like a phoenix from its ashes.

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He had carefully placed his brother's body in the Impala that he had loved; a fitting funeral carriage to take him to his final resting

place; at least until Sam could put right what had been done, and feel his brother alive in his arms again.

He buried him in a patch of woodland.

Dean would need his body once he was restored to life.

There was no way Sam was going to burn it; he couldn't have done it anyway; he couldn't have watched as his big brother's body

consumed itself amid the hungry flames.

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The Winchesters had few friends; their life-style effectively isolating them from others, but even the few hunters that they were

passing acquaintances with would never see him again, not even Bobby, for Sam had only one thing on his mind; the Trickster.

He would track him down incessantly until he had found him and then he would force him to give him back his brother;

there was no other option; no not quite, there was one other but he would reserve that until all other paths had been explored.

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After six empty months of loneliness and despair, keeping his brother's memory alive with the plate of food he always put out for

him when he ate the necessary to keep himself alive, Sam caught up with his prey.

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He was ready; he was well aware of the Trickster's penchant for deception and when he saw Bobby there, his instinct told him

that it wasn't truly him, although for one dreadful moment he had believed it was.

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Sam had gone over and over in his mind a million times, exactly how everything would play out when he finally got his hands on

the Trickster but when he found himself there, all his bravado fell away and he became a little brother again; a little brother

begging for the life of the one person that he loved most of all, for his big brother; for Dean.

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The Trickster's lesson was of no avail, for whatever he had thought to teach Sam, Sam didn't want to learn it; all he wanted was

his brother.

Even a heart of stone couldn't have stood against him as he pleaded and cried for Dean, and the powerful being standing before

him succumbed, albeit reluctantly, to the power of such unquenchable love; and instantly Sam found himself once more in that bed

of torture where it had all began.

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He looked across to where Dean was standing, and the few paces that separated them were covered in a second as Sam threw

himself on to his brother, burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck, holding on for dear life to that which was most precious to

him.

He hadn't see Dean for six months, six long terrible, lonely months.

This was not just a hug that he was giving his brother; it was a symbol of everything Dean was for him.

He couldn't breathe without him; he couldn't eat without him, he couldn't sleep without him, he couldn't live without him.

He was nothing without Dean.

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He felt his brother alive and warm in his arms, stock still, unmoving, not speaking, allowing Sam to take whatever comfort he

needed from him; instinctively understanding that Sammy had been deprived of his brother's touch in some way.

Dean would have stood there all day if that's what Sam had wanted.

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When Sam did eventually break away, Dean could feel his eyes following him continuously as he picked up his few belongings and

they got ready to go, somehow afraid that if he looked away, his big brother would disappear.

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Whatever had happened with Sam, and Dean knew that something had, over and above his own repeated Tuesday deaths,

because the hug that his baby brother had given him was of someone who had suffered through Hell and had been restored to

the land of the living.

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XXXX TBC XXXX

Many thanks to everyone who alerted, favoured and reviewed and to "casismyfavorite." :)


	3. Chapter 3

This is my favourite of the hugs for it was the longest and most intense, plus we got to see the emotions of both brothers; but for

me their hugs are only the end product of what has gone before.

They are the physical manifestation of the closure of the suffering that brought the brothers to that point.

As a reviewer accurately observed yesterday, the hug seems to be reserved for when one or the other has died and is therefore

of great symbolic value to the two Winchesters.

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Chapter Three

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Lazarus Rising.

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The blood-red inferno pulsed all around him. The sounds and sights of Hell filled his ears and eyes, from the screeches of panic

emitted by the terrified new arrivals, to the low moans of those older souls who had acknowledged their fate; condemned to

indescribable suffering for the rest of eternity.

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Dean's soul had gone through all the stages of the vocal expressions of Hell's pain, his screams and moans usually interspaced

with his brother's name, as if calling for Sam would somehow alleviate his suffering; but Dean Winchester was never born to be a

victim or to invoke clemency and pity, so in the end he took on perhaps the only alternative role in Hell that was open to the souls,

that of torturer.

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He was getting ready to plunge his razor into the sinner on his rack, when his eyes suddenly found themselves contemplating the

utter blackness that now surrounded him.

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The bile rose in his throat.

Was this some new torment devised by Alastair? Had he been cast back from torturer to tortured soul once again?

Dean tried to move but there was no room.

Panic started to creep up on him.

Where was he?

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He ran his hands down his body, stopping only when he felt the small bump in the right-hand pocket of his jeans.

He feverishly pulled the object out, twirling it in his hand; it was a cigarette lighter, and with trembling fingers, he tried to click it.

At the third attempt a feeble flickering flame illuminated the darkness around him.

A box; a pine box. He was in a coffin!

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What Hellish trick was this?

Dean took a moment to quell his panic and pushed a hand against the lid. The wood was soft and yielding under his fingers.

It wouldn't take much to break through, but then the soil would fall in, suffocating him.

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Well he couldn't stay here, so he had to go with the only available alternative.

He broke though the lid using only the strength of his hands and then clawed his way to the surface.

Luckily enough, the grave was a shallow one.

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"Sammy," was his first thought. "Sammy has gotten me out of Hell. He didn't bury me deep on purpose. That's my boy!"

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The image of his little brother energized him and with one last effort he pulled himself out of the damp soil, his face encountering

the warm heat of the sun after months immersed in the depths of the Pit.

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He started walking, still not fully convinced that this wasn't some gruesome new Hell scenario, and he soon found himself in the

yard of a deserted Gas station.

He forced his way in easily, thirstily guzzling down some of the cool water he found in the fridge; the freshness of it manna to his

parched throat, after the scorching heat that had surrounded him for the past months, or was that years?

His sense of time and space was a little hazy as yet.

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Busty Asian Beauties! His lips formed their first heart-felt smile at the sight

Hmm, maybe he was out of Hell after all. He didn't think Alastair would have bothered to stock up on his favourite magazine!

He pocketed the money from the cash register and made his way to the nearby phone booth.

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"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." was the fixed tam-tam in his head.

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He tried his brother's old cell number but it resulted cancelled. He fell back on calling Bobby, but the old hunter didn't believe that it

was him and so Dean did what he was best at; he improvised.

There wasn't a car that Dean Winchester couldn't hot-wire and before long he found himself on Bobby's door-step.

When the older hunter had finally been convinced of his identity by passing all of his tests, Dean lost no time in doing what

he had been yearning to do since finding himself in that coffin; getting to his little brother.

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There was nothing Dean didn't know about Sam, and in mere minutes he had soon traced him to a motel not far from the burial

ground. This bolstered Dean's conviction that Sam was behind his escape from Hell.

He must have stayed nearby to check that all had gone as it should.

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Well, now Dean would pay his little brother a surprise visit.

His heart swelled with longing and anticipation; he couldn't wait to see Sammy again.

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Feeling uncharacteristically hesitant as he and Bobby stood outside the Motel door; Dean knocked, and when it was opened by

a petite dark-haired woman, he was about to turn away, thinking he had mistaken the room number; but then his brother came

into view; Sam in the flesh and blood!

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He pushed his way uncaringly past the anonymous woman, eyes only for his little brother, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Perhaps if his concentration had not been wholly fixated on Sam, he would have noticed the curled up black smoke nestling inside

the pretty female shell.

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He saw the astonishment in Sam's eyes turn to suspicion and then fury; fury that some shape-shifter or demon would have dared

to taunt him with a facsimile of Dean's body, but Dean just waited there unwavering, drinking in the sight of his baby brother,

leaving it to Bobby to convince Sam of Dean's authenticity.

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They stood there staring, their eyes locked together, the joy of finding themselves truly one in front of the other, overwhelming;

the spell broken only by Dean's teasing words" I know, I look fantastic, huh!"

Like some well-oiled mechanism, the two brothers fell into each other's arms, drawn to one another by the same invisible force

that had decreed their conjoined existence both in body and soul.

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They held on tight, ever tighter until anything more would have decreed broken ribs; all the heartache and desperation of the past

months healed by their reciprocal touch. The Winchester brothers were reunited; all was well with the world.

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The demon, after offering some inconsequential remark, stole away. She was taken aback.

How had Dean Winchester gotten out of Hell?

This complicated her mission. It was a good job she had had these past months to work on the younger Winchester, for with the

distracting presence of the older brother, her job would be more complicated, but not impossible.

She smirked to herself as she exited the motel.

Let the Winchesters enjoy their pathetic little reunion, she Ruby, would see to it that it was short-lived.

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XXXX TBC XXXX


	4. Chapter 4

I think that this hug is very emotional even although it is only one sided, but Dean couldn't have known that his little brother had

been callously resurrected with no soul.

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Chapter Four.

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Exile on Main Street.

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Dean nursed his beer.

To a casual onlooker he was merely a strikingly handsome young man enjoying a quiet drink with an old acquaintance before

heading off home.

Nothing more, nothing less; but that casual observer would be way mistaken, for the young man was one of a kind;

no, one of a pair; a pair of brothers who were now legend, if not among the majority of unsuspecting humans busily immersed in

their daily lives, then in the veiled supernatural world that surrounded them.

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The man plying him with questions about his past was one of those humans; seeing Dean only as the good-natured

companion of Lisa, his next-door neighbour.

Sid could never imagine in his wildest dreams just what was hidden behind that pleasant exterior.

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He would never be witness to the mass of pain, remorse, helplessness, frustration and yearning that was churning inside Dean

Winchester; especially the yearning; the longing to be reunited with that part of him that was at this very moment undergoing

unthinkable agony in the Cage.

His heart and soul continually cried out for his brother, day and night; the nights were the worst for then he had no distractions,

and his traitorous mind catalogued all the agonies that Sam would be suffering. He tried his best to keep the images from flooding

his brain, but regularly each night they would re-present themselves, and the growing quantity of whisky that he guzzled before

climbing the stairs to bed, was never enough to give him one peaceful night's sleep.

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He had promised Sammy that he would go and live the apple pie life, but truly he had never had any intention of keeping that

promise; there were many others he had broken when it came to Sam's welfare;

keeping a promise was nothing if weighed against the safety his baby brother.

He would lie to God himself if it would help Sam.

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The problem was that he had just not been able to come up with anything that seemed remotely useful for rescuing his brother

from Lucifer's clutches, and the fruitless search was eating away at him like a ghoul slowly chewing on his flesh.

He just didn't know what more to do.

There was no info about the Cage, for it had been designed exclusively to contain Lucifer, not as a locus that contemplated

entering and exiting.

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He had thought about calling Bobby to see if he had found anything, but the emotional impact of hearing his voice would have

been too much for Dean to take at this moment.

He just couldn't have coped with Bobby's pity.

Anyway he was certain that if the older hunter had come across anything useful to help get Sam out, then he would already have

contacted him.

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He was completely caught up his thoughts and barely felt the feather touch of the pretty waitress on his arm, but it was enough

to shake him back to reality.

She had handed him the bill and he smiled ironically as he noticed the telephone number at the bottom.

Now that he had everything he needed with Lisa, the women were throwing themselves at him like never before;

now when even sex was no longer distraction enough to keep his mind occupied and sane.

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The two men left the bar and said their good-nights.

Dean was beginning to feel strangely dizzy when a shrill scream from a near-by renovation site grabbed his attention.

He pulled out a gun from his car and entered the building.

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Claw marks and blood!

He made his way carefully though the old place but other than being nearly scared to death by a couple of pigeons, there was

nothing else.

His senses had been put on alert though, and the next day he noticed more claw marks.

Now seriously alarmed, he followed them to a garden shed where he nearly ganked the Glickman's Yorkie under the horrified gaze

of his drinking companion, Sid..

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He had managed to come up with a weak excuse about possums and rabies; but he was more shocked than Sid, for the Yorkie

might not have been dangerous, but the yellow sulphur that he had found on the door-step was a clear sign that something was

going on and that he, Dean Winchester had better prepare for the worst; but the worst sometimes can't be anticipated and when

he saw Azazel, complete with yellow eyes coming into Lisa's garage, he almost freaked out.

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The demon had him in its powerful grasp, taunting him.

"No, it couldn't be. He had killed the demon himself", was the litany that repeated itself in his confused mind.

He just couldn't take any more, and Dean welcomed the blessed darkness into which his brain plunged, as it just switched itself

off.

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As his senses sluggishly started to return to him, the first thing he felt was the painful sensation in his chest.

It seemed as if someone had plunged a dagger into it, but the pain was magically forgotten as he saw what seemed to be the

effigy of his brother, sitting watching him.

He pulled himself up from the cot on which he was lying, eyes wide, as the image spoke. "Hey Dean."

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Two simple words that Dean had never thought to hear his little brother pronounce again, but sometimes miracles did

happen and if what he was seeing was true, then this was Dean Winchester's.

He remained motionless on the cot just staring at Sam, afraid that if he took his eyes from him, he'd disappear.

But Sam remained there in front of him and even bantered about expecting a hug or some holy water in the face.

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Dean just kept on staring, a living statue in a dark shirt and blue jeans.

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Stilling his throbbing heart, he managed to say three words. "So I'm dead,?" unable to comprehend how he could have been

with his brother if not through dying, but the very fact of his brother's presence made him wonder if he was in Heaven,

because Dean's heaven is where Sam is.

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"Are YOU real, Sammy?" Dean asked apprehensively, when his brother explained that the Djinn had poisoned him

and that all that he thought he had seen, including Azazel was just a vision.

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Sam assured him that he was, and put himself through all the standard tests to prove it, while Dean looked on, eyes big with

unshed tears.

He pulled himself up awkwardly from the cot, and the "Sammy?" that passed his lips was more eloquent than a thousand words.

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"Yeah, it's me," Sam replied.

Dean made his way slowly towards the brother that he had thought never to see again, his moist expressive green eyes

professing all the love that he felt for him, and his happiness in seeing him again.

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He came right up into his personal space and while Sam stood unmoving, Dean threw himself on to him, pulling him in tight,

his arms circling his neck, hanging on; never wanting to let go, ever again.

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Dean was so ecstatic to feel his arms full of real live Sammy that he wasn't conscious of the almost non-existent response from

his usually so emo baby brother.

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Dean didn't yet know all the pain that would be reserved for both of them from that moment on, and even if he had, there was

nothing that could have ruined that perfect moment, when after a whole year of being without his baby brother, he finally had him

in his arms again.

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XXXX TBC XXXX

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted or favoured. It's always great to hear your thoughts. :)


	5. Chapter 5

This is the last hug I can remember in Supernatural, at least up until the end of Season Six, as I haven't seen Season Seven yet.

If you think I've missed one let me know!

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As I have already written a similar story "The Reunion" about this hug, which was from Sam's point-of–view, I will go with Dean's

POV on this one.

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Like A Virgin.

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The cluttered red-wallpapered room was occupied by a thoughtful Bobby and a hyper-tense Dean as they sat opposite one

another around the antique desk, discussing the latest news bulletins.

A small private plane had crashed in mysterious circumstances and Dean welcomed the distraction as it helped take his mind off

that which was eating away at him, namely the wait for Sam to come out of whatever unconscious state he found himself in

down in the panic room.

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Dean's mind wandered back for a second to the incredible conversation he had had with Castiel a few weeks earlier. It was the

night they were going to raid Crowley's lair

He had found it hard to comprehend exactly what the angel was saying to him when he had begun to ramble on about Sam's soul

being better off left where it was in the Cage, as it was now possibly too shredded and mutilated to be rejoined with Sam's body.

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Dean had been packing his duffle with the items he deemed necessary for the assault, and at first he wondered if he had

misunderstood what Castiel was saying. How could it be better for Sam's soul to remain in the Cage?

Wasn't the whole Heaven / God thing about saving as many souls as possible, and so why was Cas advising him to leave his little

brother's soul to the eternal mercy of an extra-pissed Lucifer, when there was a chance to free it.

Just what exactly was the angel trying to say?

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Then he had thought about it. Cas had never suffered the tortures of Hell.

Dean didn't know if or how angels were punished, and he really didn't care, but he was sure that if Cas had been tortured for one

hundred and eighty years in the Cage, he would have been more than happy to be pulled out.

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Dean had been there and the nightmares came to him still. He just pushed them down in true Winchester tradition.

"Ignore it and it'll go away " was Dean's motto but that didn't work for everyone.

It didn't apply to Sammy for instance, who would brood and agonise over things unendingly.

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In any case, Cas be damned! He was getting Sammy's soul out of Hell even if there was only a thin strip of it left. Whatever

happened after that was always preferable to suffering at Satan's hands for all eternity.

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Castiel's words had come back to mind again when he had laid himself down on Dr. Robert's cheap table, waiting for his sadistic

nurse to send him off to the after-life for a meeting with Death himself, and he found them no more logical now than before.

Cas was wrong. He would get his brother's soul back, come what may!

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Dean wasn't afraid of much, certainly not of dying; he had "been there done that "so often that he had lost count, but the physical

embodiment of Death himself scared the crap out of him.

The memory of those hollow cheeks and sunken eyes made him shake to the toes of his boots.

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He swallowed his fear. This was for Sammy after all, and a stand-off with Death would be more than worth it to get his soul

back.

He missed his puppy-eyed brother so much it hurt, and although he knew it wasn't Robo-Sam's fault that

he was such an uncaring dick, it was imperative to get his own Sammy back.

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So it was that he pushed down his fear and pride and begged Death to give him back his brother's soul.

The choice that the powerful being had proposed to him between saving Sam's soul or Adam's had given him no hesitation.

"Sam" had been his prompt answer.

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He felt sorry for Adam, but there was no way he would ever have chosen him over Sam.

Dean didn't know for sure what was going on in the Cage but he was ready to bet that Sam was the one taking all the

punishment; after all Adam had ended up being Michael's vessel and it certainly wasn't his fault that Michael and Lucifer had

ended up in the Cage, so why should they have it in for him at all?

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Dean had been literally flabbergasted when Death had volunteered to rescue Sam's soul even although he had failed to carry out

Death's job for the allotted twenty-four hours.

If Dean had had the courage, he would have hugged him there and then, but just the idea was enough to make him quake and

shiver.

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Later when he had rushed down to the panic room and seen the beauty of Sam's splendid white soul, he had been overwhelmed

with love and pride for his brother. He was looking at his very essence. Dean wondered about his own. He was pretty sure that it

was much blacker than Sammy's, which even after one hundred and eighty years in the Cage, was still as white as the driven

snow.

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Death had explained the whole Wall affair to him and knowing Sam, he realised that it would be the Devil's own task trying to

keep his curious little brother from searching for answers; but Dean was ready for anything.

That was just one more responsibility to add to his big brother hand-book, and zero compared to having his beloved brother

back.

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Dean's mind returned to the present.

"Dean, boy! Are you listening to a word I'm saying?" the older hunter chided. "Sorry, Bobby but, well you know…..."

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Bobby just nodded, but in that instant Dean heard a feeble voice calling his name; a voice that no longer sounded like that of the

over-confident Robo-Sam, but the scared voice of his little brother calling to him, needing his big brother to assure him that

everything was alright.

Dean was somehow afraid to turn around in case what he saw wasn't what he needed to see, but as the footsteps came slowly

closer, he cautiously stood and was immediately swept up into the familiar embrace of his little brother; an embrace that he had

lived without for eighteen barren months.

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He felt Sam's arms tightening around him as if he would never let go, and neither he would, Dean vowed, as his own arms found

their natural place around his Sasquatch's broad shoulders; they would never again let go of each other.

Dean felt a sensation of completeness wash over him as he desperately hung onto Sam and he understood that the bond

between them was forged by more than simple brotherhood but by something that went beyond their understanding, something

almost spiritual. Whatever it was, he was in no rush to find out. Having Sammy back was enough for him.

They might bitch or argue or even throw punches, but there was no way in Hell they would ever be separated again.

Dean Winchester would see to that, and Dean Winchester's word was his bond.

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XXXX The enD XXXX

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Thanks to all who have reviewed and to "Anna" and "Casismyfavorite", if they read this story; whom I can't thank personally


	6. Chapter 6

The Hug That Could Have Been.

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As if he had a pack of hellhounds on his heels, Dean violently pushed open the warehouse door; his Sammy sensors telling him that his brother was in all kinds of trouble, but the last thing he expected was to see Sam waving a pistol at him.

He perceived the confusion in the wide green eyes as he moved slowly forward into the room. Sam was looking at him as if he was a ghoul or a shape shifter of some kind.

"Sammy?" Dean murmured softly, trying to soothe the uncertainty he saw reflected in the familiar eyes. "It's okay man, I'm here."

Puzzled, Sam looked away to something only he could see, for to Dean the warehouse was empty but for them.

"I know," Sam answered panicked, his eyes practically rotating in their sockets. "I came here with you!"

"Sam, I just got here. Whatever you think you were seeing, it's not real." Dean assured him

Sam waved the gun about again, not trusting his perception of the facts.

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He was like a spooked horse and Dean understood that he had to calm his brother down quickly.

He held up his hands as if in surrender "Look Sam, no gun. Put yours down. If you think there are two of us, then you wouldn't want to kill the wrong one now, would you?"

Sam seemed as if he was going to fire off a clip anyway just for precaution, but then he slowly lowered the gun, allowing Dean to come up and stand in front of him.

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"Hey man," he began as if he was talking to a frightened child. "You think there's two us here and you don't know who's real?" Sam just watched nervously as Dean reached out and pulled Sam's hand into his own.

"I've been to Hell too, Sammy and I know its pain is different from Earth's. It's the pain of the soul, while this," he declared as he pressed his thumb into the wound on Sam's hand. "Is of the body."

Sam flinched at the hurt, but Dean kept his hand steady. "This is real, Sam. I'm the Dean who sewed it up," he swore earnestly. "I'm your true blood brother. Whoever else you're seeing in here is a crappy fake!"

X

Sam stared at his brother in bewilderment, wanting to trust; hoping that the Dean who was causing his hand such pain was the real one, and he felt the beginnings of hope building up in him as the Lucifer image started to flicker out.

"Sam," Dean ordered as he saw the wide green eyes focusing on some image behind him. "Look at me! Trust me! I'm going to be your stone number one and you're gonna build a friggin' pyramid on top of me," he declared firmly. " Believe in me!"

He let go of the tortured hand and with the easing up of the pain, Sam saw Lucifer starting to reappear. His long fingers went to his palm and started to push into the wound where his brother had just removed his own blood-speckled ones, and to his relief, when the pain returned, Lucifer vanished.

"Dean, it's really you," he whispered as he stared at his brother, his eyes filling with certainty.

Dean smirked and he went with " The one and only!" trying for normal, but his heart was heavy for what he had just witnessed.

X

He felt as if an emotional atom bomb had nuked him, as he gazed at his little brother.

Just what had he done when he had allowed Sam to take that leap into the Cage. It had seemed the best thing to do at the time but what had he condemned his baby brother to? He knew in his heart that if he had the chance to go back and repeat the whole thing, he would have stopped Sam from doing what he did.

They would have found another way, and if not, then the whole crap world could just have gone up in flames, but Sam **had** fallen into the pit and now they would have to deal.

X

The sight of his gigantic little brother who at the moment appeared all of five years old, looking at him as if he was his saviour and could right all the wrongs, made Dean's legs go forward of their own volition and he felt his arms rising as if directed by some puppeteer's strings, to wrap themselves around the kid.

He pulled him into a hug, a hand going to the back of Sam's neck and directing his shaggy head down into the hollow of his shoulder. He could feel the fine tremors shaking Sam's body and he tightened his hold. At first Sam seemed to resist but then he relaxed into his big brother's arms as he had done since he was old enough to understand and recognise the unique scent of Dean.

X

His brother was an enigma in many ways, Dean mused.

Sam had always been a gentle child, sweet and giving and yet he was also an exceptional hunter, though he would never have picked that life for himself if he had the choice. Thing was, Dean thought sadly, Sammy had never had the luxury of a choice and for that matter, neither had he.

He felt Sam burrow in closer and he tightened his hold, chick-flick moments be damned. There was no-one here to see; Sam needed him and he needed his brother.

X

Anger washed over him as he remembered what the being he had once likened to a brother had done to Sam, bringing down his wall to prevent them from following him. It had been an evil inhuman thing to do. Castiel, could have come up with a thousand ways of stopping them, yet he had purposely hurt his gentle little brother, allowing all his Hell memories and those of what he had done while soulless, to wash over him.

It was a true paradox that Death, who was supposed to instil terror into the hearts of men, had been more considerate than the angel, going into the Cage, getting Sam's soul out and providing him with a wall.

X

Sam stirred in the circle of his arms but Dean still clung on. If holding on to Sam like this could give his brother comfort, he would stand here until doomsday if necessary, for he knew that once outside this warehouse, they would only find more strife, unhappiness and worry.

"Dean," Sam murmured into his shoulder. "I'm okay now."

"You sure, Sammy?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Dean nodded at the words, but before releasing him, he whispered. "I'm gonna let go, Sammy but know that I'll always be here for you little brother."

He stepped away from Sam but his eyes never left him.

"We're brothers Sammy and nothing is ever gonna come between us. And if Lucifer shows up again you just tell me and I'll kick his bony ass."

X

Sam cracked a watery smile.

Dean was his. There was nobody in the world he would rather be than Sam Winchester; Lucifer and the Cage be damned.

He took his place at his brother's side as in complete synch they walked towards the door and to what they would find beyond it, secure in the warmth of their brotherly bond.

X

XXXX The enD XXXXX


	7. Chapter 7

This fantasy hug is for mb64 who felt it was the right spot for more hugging. :)

X

A Born-Again Hug.

X

Anger coursed through his veins like molten lava, but there was no one that he could take it out on because it was directed solely against himself.

His fisted hands were itching to smash into something, anything, to reduce the tension in his body and if there had been a wall nearby, he would have punched it, accepting the pain as a just punishment for his sins.

X

When the call had come through from the clinic, he had been caught completely unawares. Sam had been knocked down by a car and he was in hospital, in the psych ward. Just what the Hell was going on?! He tried to ignore the little voice in his mind that was whispering that he knew exactly what was happening to Sam.

It was the part of him which had gone into denial when his brother had told him about his difficulty in sleeping; that his 'hellucinations' were getting stronger; that Lucifer was ever more omnipresent in his mind.

Dean recalled how in the warehouse a few months earlier, he had exhorted his brother to trust him, to look on him as stone number one. How could he have let this happen, how could he have so blatantly ignored the signs of suffering that were all too clear on his little brother's face and in his half-hearted denials?

He understood why; he just hadn't want to believe that Sam would really get to the point of breaking. He had hidden his head in the sand ostrich style, hoping that if he ignored what Sam was going through it would magically disappear, but it hadn't and now his little brother was in a Mental Institute!

X

As soon as he found himself alone in the driver's seat of the car, however, all his anger dissolved into tears, hot bitter tears that dropped unashamedly on to the wheel. He wept for Sam, for himself, for Bobby, for all those who had died because they had the misfortune to encounter the Winchester brothers.

He cried until it seemed that all the liquid in his body had exited via his tear ducts, the bodywork of the car shielding him from the outside world and from what he would soon have to face.

X

But the tears had been cathartic and he raised his head in pride, remembering who he was. He lifted his chin in defiance, he was frigging Dean Winchester, Sammy's big brother, hunter extraordinary and he would fix this. It wasn't too late! It couldn't be!

It was his job to look out for Sam; he would make this right but if he couldn't and Sam went down, he swore that this time there would be no soul-selling, no tricks; he would simply follow his baby brother to wherever he ended up.

He wouldn't kill himself, for he didn't want the excuse of suicide to get in the way; no, he'd leave the method of his death to the first monster that came along. He revved up the engine, at peace with himself and aimed it towards his brother.

X

He stood outside the door and studied his brother through the glass panel. Sam was lying immobile on the bed and Dean felt something shift in his belly. How a six-foot five man could resemble a five-year old child was unexplainable but that was how Sammy appeared to him.

His little brother looked so lost and hopeless lying there alone and Dean felt all his big brother genes coming preponderantly to the fore. He would fix this, he had to fix it!

Soon he would have Sam back at his side where he belonged or he would die trying!

X

X

They say that hope is the last to go and that was how it felt to Dean as he made his way to Emanuel's house. Perhaps this time the Winchesters would get a break, perhaps God was out there somewhere after all and was feeling charitable today.

His hunter acquaintance Makay had told him that his eye had been cured by a faith-healer. Dean knew that the hunter was a practical man, not given to flights of fancy, so he had every reason to believe him.

Nothing came easy though, he mused as he quickly dispatched the demon that he unexpectedly found at the at the healer's house.

X

A noise at the bottom of the steps drew his attention and he glanced down at the person who was standing there.

To Dean it felt as if the only two emotions he could still express were either anger or grief and when he recognised the being staring up at him, anger got the upper hand; a seething, simmering, gelid anger, for standing there was the one who had condemned Sam to die, the one who had coldly and unnecessarily shattered Death's handiwork.

_**This **_was Emanuel? _**This**_ was Sam's last hope? The very one who had caused it all!

He swallowed his anger as the man studied him with no recognition at all in his eyes.

X

X

X

Dean waited impatiently outside the hospital as Castiel went forward to take out the demons that had gathered there, hoping to have the honour of capturing an angel to bring back to Crowley; not just any angel, but one that had double-crossed the King of Hell. Each of them wanted the reward that had been promised to bring him in, but all these events passed before Dean's eyes like the images on a screen, his mind too occupied with the salvation of his little brother to pay more than a casual attention.

X

X

When by Sam's death-bed, Castiel informed Dean that he could do nothing because Sam's wall had crumbled to dust and there were no bricks left to rebuild it, Dean stared at him in disbelief. "You broke his wall now you gotta fix it," was all that came to his lips. "You said that when it was all over you would mend Sam!"

If angels could cringe, Castiel would have done so under Dean's scrutiny, the Winchester's intense eyes pinning him to his responsibilities, but the angel's face showed no emotion as he pondered the problem.

A sudden flash of insight came to him. "I can't rebuild the wall," he confirmed. "But I can try to absorb Sam's memories of the Cage. It should at least help him to get up and about. I'm sorry, I should never have done this to Sam."

Dean didn't bother answering, he had nothing to say, no wish to engage in conversation with the one who had reduced Sam to near death. He felt emotionless, cold, having already made his decision earlier in the Impala.

If Sam died then he would follow.

X

He looked on in silence as the red rivulets of Sam's hellish visions made their way up the angel's arm coming to rest in his eyes, reducing them to two pieces of fiery coal. No words of encouragement passed his lips. His eyes were fixed on the little brother that he had again come so very close to losing.

He watched in relief as the lines of pain that had been etched on his brother's face smoothed themselves out and as Sam turned his eyes towards him, the tiny spark of hope that shone there, made Dean come alive again.

X

"Sam," he uttered falteringly, not sure whether to celebrate just yet, while his body propelled itself around the bed towards his prone brother.

"Dean," Sam answered.

Sam could express a thousand different emotions in that one word, and this time he was asking for his big brother, wanting Dean near him; something that Dean was all too willing to do.

"Sammy!"

Although he would never admit to it, he was no different from his little brother as far as expressing emotions through the simple voicing of the word Sam was concerned.

Sammy needed him now and Dean answered his call like a sailor to a siren's.

It was the call of blood, of brotherhood, of the shared danger of a life spent together, of fights and pranks, of abandonment and loss, of everything and nothing, all culminating in this; Dean and Sam; Sam and Dean.

Ash had said they were soul-mates and he remembered how he and Sam had stolen a glance at each other embarrassed, but he had no reason to doubt Ash's words for what he and his brother shared was so powerful that it would outlast Heaven and Hell.

He opened his arms as Sam threw himself into his embrace, pulling him in. He could feel Sam's heart beating furiously, his body still tense with fear, fear that he had been on the brink of death, that he would no longer see Dean.

Sam burrowed into him, his large body somehow fitting seamlessly into Dean's smaller one. They held on to each other, to the only anchor they had in the stormy sea of their lives, oblivious to anyone other than themselves.

X

X

When they walked out of the hospital, Dean felt whole again, the one person in the world that he truly loved was by his side, relatively healthy. He could ask for nothing more.

Two pairs of green eyes met over the roof of the car as they had done many times before, the unspoken sentiments that were transmitted from one to the other as strong and binding as ever.

X

XXX The enD XXX


End file.
